Projects and Humility Lessons
by fufulupin
Summary: BobbyRogue Movieverse. What happens when two teenagers are trapped in a small room late at night to work on a project? RR, pretty please!


Disclaimer: 1st fic in a while...and I'm not entirely sure about this one. It sounded better in my head, but I waited to type it out, so I think it's kinda crazy now...oh well. It's still getting posted. Enjoy and don't be all mean about it, k? ...BTW, I'm a fan from the Movieverse, so this fic isn't exactly going to be character-perfect. Sadly, I haven't read many X-men comics. (hangs head) Sorry. The Southern accent is there...just not written. You'll have to add that in on your own.

"Tired?" Bobby "Iceman" Drake asked, an amused smile playing on his lips. His best friend, Marie "Rogue" D'Ancanto, laughed through her yawn. "Tired" was the smallest of synonyms for the way she was feeling.

They were seated in Bobby's room, at a cramped little desk, trying to finish a project for Storm's class. Though the paper was fully written and printed, there was a mostly-blank poster-board on the table, half-hidden beneath M&M packages and colored pencils. Rogue glanced at her watch and groaned; 11:48 P.M. They'd been working on this stupid assignment for over three hours.

"This is going to kill me...," she muttered, reaching for a blue colored pencil. Bobby made a small noise of agreement and closed his eyes for a moment.

'Staying up late isn't the only thing that'll kill me,' Rogue reflected, letting her eyes briefly skim over her best friend. Sitting at this little table in this little room for hours on end had done nothing whatsoever to help her raging hormones. She wasn't sure how much longer she could be in this room, around this boy, without exploding.

Bobby was gorgeous; she'd realized that from the very start of their relationship. His blond hair was spiky and most would think that he spent countless hours making it perfect. She knew, however, that the look was utterly natural for him, having seen him several times in the middle of the night. It was adorable, the way he kept running his fingers through the soft spikes when he got frustrated.

And those eyes! She felt like she was drowning in the icy blue of his eyes, drowning in the humor and odd warmth that seemed to radiate from him. She almost couldn't see straight anymore.

It didn't much help that they were sitting so close together. She'd lost track of the amount of times his knee had brushed hers; earlier on in the evening, she'd grown bold and lightly wrapped her ankle around his. If he'd noticed, he didn't let on, so she didn't changed position.

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached for another pencil. Her hand knocked against his and while she was flinching (mostly from instinct; the gloves she wore protected both of them against her power), a hot current seemed to rush between them. She swallowed hard and glanced over at Bobby, who was busily coloring the bubble letters of their title.

She sighed. This was too much. When Storm had assigned this project, allowing them to pick their own partners, she'd been ecstatic. Now, when they were seated here...well, she half-hoped Bobby's roommate, John, would return from his date soon. Otherwise, she wasn't sure what would happen.

Unbeknownst to her, Bobby wasn't faring much better. He couldn't stop himself from glancing constantly over at his dark-haired friend, mulling over her beauty and brooding over her mutation. Because of her power, he couldn't touch her. Not even a slight brush of his fingers against her cheek. It made his body feel like it was on fire, to be around her and not be able to do a single thing.

Her white skunk stripe fell over her chocolate eyes and he resisted the urge to tuck it carefully back into place. He knew that many of the other students were thrown by that singular streak of shock white amidst the chestnut locks, but for him it served as a reminder of what he would ensure would never happen to her again. It also instilled a sort of fierce pride in her strength, a strength that few possessed. He was proud of her, corny as that may have seemed.

Her hand brushed his for the thousandth time that night and he wanted so badly to grab her by the wrist and remove that stupid white glove. It was driving him utterly insane, the way she had to hide herself from the world just to keep them all safe. He bit his lip.

Her eyes met his for a second and she smiled, slightly self-conscious. "What?" she asked, Southern accent making the word sound quieter than she'd meant it to.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I was just wondering if we were ever going to finish this."

She laughed, a rich, clear sound. He watched as she licked her lips and stifled a groan. 'This is going to kill me...'

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"Arg! I hate Storm!" Rogue growled, beating a fist down on the table. Half an hour had passed and they still had work to do. She wasn't going to be able to move tomorrow in class and it was all the fault of their stupid history teacher.

"No you don't," Bobby replied automatically. "She's saved your life, remember?"

"I don't care," Rogue grumbled grumpily. "She's pure evil, straight from the bowels of Hell." Tossing a pencil down, she crossed her arms and pouted.

Bobby leaned back in his chair, laughing a little. She turned her glare on him.

"Robert Drake, do not laugh at me," she growled softly. He shuddered.

"Robert? You lash me with my full name."

"You know it." Sighing, she gripped the bridge of her nose with two fingers, trying to ward off a headache. "It is far too late for this. Are you sure this is due tomorrow?"

"Dead sure," he replied, no longer smiling. "Hey, are you okay? If you're too tired, I can finish up."

"No, I can manage." The last thing she needed was for him to think she was too weak to even finish a project.

He nodded, getting up and heading for his stash of chocolate. "I think a sugar fix is in order here, don't you?"

She smiled. "You read my mind, Mr. Drake."

The corners of his lips twitched in the precursor to a smile. "Maybe I did."

'Oh God,' she thought, watching as he stretched. His tee shirt lifted slightly as he raised his arms over his head. 'Bobby, don't do this now...it's almost over...'

Alas, she was not telepathic. He glanced over his shoulder at her, smiling slightly.

"What?"

"What?" she repeated, jumping in her seat. He chuckled.

"Are you okay?" He came over to kneel before her. "Are you dozing off on me or something?"

She couldn't answer. All she could do was stare. He shifted nervously.

"Marie?"

That did it. No one else called her by that name any more. She lunged jerkily forward, catching the back of his head with one hand and slamming her mouth against his before he could respond. He made a soft noise, somewhere between surprise and pain.

She pulled back before the imprint could begin and panted. He stared back at her, dimly registering what had just happened.

"What...I mean, I thought you couldn't—," he stammered. She blinked.

"Are you hurt?" she asked instantly. He shook his head. She sank back in her chair, still gripping his hair with one gloved hand. "Thank God."

"Did you just..." He swallowed. "Could you do that again? I mean, it wasn't just a one-time thing, was it?"

"I'd rather not test it." How she had lost control, she wasn't sure, but she knew one thing: she'd never let it happen again. She cared about him far too much for this sort of danger.

Bobby didn't seem to be thinking along the same lines. As she watched, he iced over his hand and lightly brushed it against her cheek. She shivered at the cold sensation, but his skin wasn't warping. He seemed fine.

"Why didn't I think of this before?" he wondered, mostly to himself.

She shook her head. "We can't do this, Bobby. This can't work, you know that. We decided at the beginning—"

He cut her off. "Marie, relax. Okay? You don't have to protect me from yourself, you know."

"But...no one else will," she protested lamely. When he cocked his head in confusion, she added, "You don't think about your own safety when it comes to me. I hate to break it to you, Iceman, but I don't really want to see you in a coma."

He laughed, gently running his iced-over thumb across her lips. She shook her head.

"Are you even listening to me?" The words were shaky, but the meaning behind them was perfectly firm. "Bobby, don't start this—"

"You started it," he reminded her gently. "Rogue, you can't just turn something like this off."

She blinked. He only called her by her mutant name when he was trying to get through to her.

Seemingly satisfied by her stunned silence, he traced a path from her lips, across her cheek, to the white stripe in her hair. Fingering it carefully, he smiled. "We'll be careful, Marie. We won't just go headlong into this; we're both intelligent individuals. So why can't we give it a try?"

"Bobby..." Her eyes closed involuntarily as he drew closer. "Bobby, I don't want to—"

"Hurt me?" he whispered. "You won't."

"How can you have so much faith in something this....insane?"

He drew the scarf from around her neck and placed it against her lips, feather-light. "Because. I trust you," he replied simply.

Then his mouth was against hers and all rational thought disappeared from her mind. There was love in the kiss and the icy-warmth that was Bobby and something else, something she couldn't quite describe. She found herself responding, cautiously at first, then with more certainty. Their tongues brushed through the fabric and she giggled slightly against him.

He pulled back and watched her with amused blue eyes. She sighed contentedly, one hand still tangled in his messy blond locks.

"What do you think? Care to give it a try?" he asked hopefully, suddenly looking like a little boy in a candy shop. She licked her lips.

"I think you might be worth it, Robert Drake," she replied, smiling dryly. He gave a mock-shudder.

"The full name thing again! Do you really loathe me that much?"

She giggled. "C'mon, sugar. We've got a project to finish."

He took his seat again and laughed. "Do you really think you can sit there for another hour without feeling these hot lips again?"

Shooting him a playfully-coy look, she shook her head. "I'll have to teach you some humility, boy."

His grin widened. "I look forward to the lesson."


End file.
